“Maria,” she said, “you are a perfect fool.”

“Well, really, Martha, I—­I——­”

“For goodness’ sake, don’t begin to snivel.  I hadn’t finished my speech.  I’m a fool, too.  We are both in the same box.”

“Oh, no, Martha, you always were——­”

“Folly.  You needn’t roll your eyes at me.  Don’t flatter.  I said we were both fools.  I repeat it.  We have been hoaxed.”

“Hoaxed?” said Miss Maria, with a high staccato note of inquiry.

“Yes.  Hoaxed.  Hoaxed out of our wedding presents by a girl who is not going to have a wedding at all.  I miss my brooch.  My throat feels naked without it.  Last week I had a hoarseness.  I attribute it to the loss of the brooch.”

“I don’t miss my lace,” said Miss Maria.  “I am glad she has it.  I am very glad she has it, wedding or no wedding, bless her sweet heart.”

“Maria, your sentiments are sickly.  Don’t give me any more of them.  Here we are at the door now.  You’ll remember, Maria, my hint, and act as a modest woman, if occasion requires.”

Here Mrs. Butler souded a loud rat-tat on the Bells’ hall door.  The little maid opened it rather in a fright.  She poked her head out.  This was a style usually adopted by the Northbury servants.

“Is your mistress in, Hannah?”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Butler, ma’am.  I’ll inquire, ma’am.  Will you walk in, please, ma’am.”

“I will, Hannah, and so will Miss Peters.  Show us into the drawing-room, and tell your mistress we are here.  If she should happen to be out we will wait her return.  You will be particular to remember that, Hannah.  We’ll wait her return.”

“Oh, if you please, Mrs. Butler, will you—­excuse me, ma’am, but will you come into the parlor, please, ma’am?”

“Into the parlor?  Why into the parlor, pray?”

“It’s Miss Matty, ma’am.”

“Oh! has Miss Matty become mistress of this house?  And does she forbid her mother’s visitors admission to the drawing-room!  Hoots, toots—­I’ll soon put a stop to that sort of thing.  Come on, Maria.”

“But really, Martha—­do stop a moment, Martha—­I’m sure Hannah ought to know best.”

“Oh, indeed, yes, Miss Peters—­thank you, Miss Peters—­missis did give orders most positive.  These were her exact words:  ‘Hannah,’ she said, ’the parlor is for callers.  You remember that, Hannah, and the drawing-room is for—­’”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Butler, sweeping round, and confronting poor little frightened Hannah.  “Who is the drawing-room for?”

“For Miss Matty, please, Mrs. Butler, ma’am.  For Miss Matty and Mr. Gusty Jenkins.  They’re a—­they’re a-lovering in the drawing-room, ma’am.”

“Then they are engaged!  That rumor also reached me.  Come on, Maria.  We’ll go and congratulate them.”

No poor little ignorant maid-of-all-work could keep Mrs. Butler back now.  She swept down the passage, followed by the shrinking, but curious Miss Peters.  She threw open the drawing-room door herself, and intruded upon the abashed young people with a stately flourish.